


Reprieve for the Lost

by waterlit



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Drama, Fem!Allen, Romance, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9165373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlit/pseuds/waterlit
Summary: It's 1940, and war sweeps over the world.





	

[1940]

_Kanda's house was utterly destroyed. In its stead there remained only rubble and cracked bricks, the remnants of old splintered furniture, scattered trunks and roots, and leaves lying putrid in the winter soil. There was no sense of life, no sense that the house might put itself back together. Beyond the uprooted fence lay only a creeping curl of white mist like a smile mocking Allen and her memories._

_In the grim sky hung a gibbous red moon glimmering like a malignant eye of some cruel god long turned to dust through the attrition of its altar. Allen walked through the moor, and found the stench of death and decay in every direction. There were soft footfalls trailing behind her, and half-buried footprints ahead. The wind was cold, as if it had just been blown in from the mouth of the sea. Shadows long and thin danced around her like a net growing and then diminishing._

_There was a cry, like an unholy screech, the mournful wail of a seagull, or something scratching at the door in the darkest hour of night.  
_

_Then the night collapsed like a swollen deck of cards and her world shattered at her unshod feet._

_The dawn would be coloured with blood and the ghosts of things lost through hatred._

* * *

Allen woke with a shiver the day Kanda left.

For one horrifying moment, she could hear the scream of the sirens— _shelter_ , _shelter, seek shelter_ -and bolted upright.

But there was only silence. The sirens had not blared; there were no ear-piercing grunts that signified the start of the shelling. Allen sighed. That morning, at least, the air battles were taking place near or around the pulsing heart of London, and not in a moorland far from the capital and other important port cities. All was well if only for that moment. 

In the darkness of dawn, Allen pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The morning was cold, as if the tears of slain men and forgotten heroes were creeping across the land, propelling the fog forward. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep, but she could not doze off. Her mind kept returning to some dreadful precipice—possibly, some remnant of her nightmare. She could not quite remember it; there was a dark pool, perhaps, and the haunting ghost of a moon flickering in the sepulchral sky.

Allen shivered again, and opened her eyes. The silence was wretched; there was no birdsong at that hour, nor any sound of human activity. She had not minded it before, back when the rumours of war had yet to dash across the land. But now, when men from the villages and even men from their little town were signing up left, right and centre to enlist, and half the town stood still in the wavering uncertainty, she found that she could hardly bear it.

When the Lees' rooster next door finally crowed, Allen pushed back the covers and darted to the wash basin. It was time to remove the cobwebs of sleep from her face, and the itching nightmares from her hair, to emerge into the dawn like a butterfly out of a moist cocoon.

After all, she would be meeting Kanda today.

* * *

The day had been a lazy one, the weather unusually mild. Winter was on its way and the leaves fell from tall trees, collecting together in mushy heaps below outspread branches. 

It was evening when Kanda trekked through muddy paths until he saw the town's only hotel come into view. Its red slates and facade of dark bricks stood out against the red crowns of the trees. Memories of days long past still lingered in its curtained windows, its ancient, softly-crumbling arches, and the eaves covered with trails of ivy and moss. The mist curling around the building lent it an air of mystery, as if it were a long-lost mansion revealed by the lifting of the faerie veil, washed in by the tide and the caprices of the little people.

Up the sweeping front steps, and through the panelled oak doors, into a marble-floored hallway glimmering under the light of a small chandelier. Kanda took the first door to the left, and found himself within the restaurant. The place was mostly empty, with only the odd guest or two enjoying their evening coffee.

Allen stood behind the counter, thumbing through a sheaf of paper. When Kanda entered, she smiled brightly, ran a hand through her hair, and joined Kanda at his favourite table overlooking the lawn.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"It was—"

Kanda was interrupted by the screech of a chair.

Lavi had joined them. He placed a teapot and three cups onto the table, and sank into the empty chair, folding his long limbs over to make himself comfortable. "Boy, it's been a long day!" 

"Go away," Kanda said.

Lavi pulled at his bowtie. "But my feet are tired."

"I'm talking to her," Kanda said.

"You're telling her?"

"Tell me what?" Allen said.

Kanda took a deep breath; looked away. There was a feverish tint to his face. "I've enlisted."

"Enlisted." The tea was hot and bitter on Allen's tongue. The china handle wobbled in her fingers. The world lost its colour. "Enlisted?"

Lavi divested Allen of the cup of tea. "That's what he said."

Lenalee hovered by their table. "Kanda? Really?"

"No," Allen said.

"Yes," said Kanda.

Under the table, Allen's fingers picked at her skirt. Something cold rattled within her rib cage, a hailstorm of fear and pain. "Oh good lord."

Lenalee asked incredulously, "But what about Allen? Tiedoll?"

"I told him yesterday," said Kanda. "He agrees."

Lenalee glanced at Allen. "I—"

"Let me talk to the Beansprout alone."

Lenalee sighed and prodded Lavi's shoulder.

When they had disappeared into the kitchen, and the restaurant was clear but for the guests having their dinner, Kanda reached across the table and clasped Allen's hands into his larger ones. "I have to go."

Allen nodded and tried to ignore the stinging sensation in her eyes. "I know."

"This war. Has to be won. You saw the news. Don't cry."

Allen attempted to blink her tears away. "Yes. I know, I know..."

"I'll come back if I don't die."

Allen squeezed Kanda's fingers. "Must you say that?"

Kanda's other hand brushed the side of Allen's head. "I won't." He leaned across the table to hug her.

Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his pocket and brought out some slips of paper. "Clothing rations," he said. "You should have them. Don't freeze in winter."

"Kanda…"

"I'll miss you. I'm leaving today."

"Now?" Allen brushed the tears from her eyes and reached out to grab the front of Kanda's coat. "Kanda, you—"

Kanda's fingers ghosted over Allen's cheeks. "The train leaves today."

Allen gave up on stopping her tears. Through a haze of grief and fear she tucked her own crucifix into Kanda's pocket. "Stay safe and come home," she said. "I'll wait."

* * *

[1941]

"Look, Lenalee, the Japanese are killing our men like flies and the Germans are bombing the shit out of us, and you tell me to stay here, _hide here_ , like a _coward_?"

"Lavi, calm down! I just don't want you to be hurt!"

"Didn't you read the letter they sent? Daisya died! He died, alright? Some fucking bastard got him and they tied him upside down to a tree in damned Malaya and bayoneted him, and here we are, drinking tea and eating scones and butter!" Lavi smashed his palms against the table. A cup tipped over and cracked its side against the floor.

Lenalee's eyes filled up with tears. Allen placed her hands around Lenalee's shaking shoulders and nudged the broken cup aside with her feet.

Lavi ran a hand across his face. "Lenalee, I know you don't want me to go. I don't want to die either. But I have to go! Our people are dying everywhere; I can't just sit here and serve tea or count money knowing that I could be useful out there!"

Lenalee hid her face in her hands. Allen gestured for Lavi to leave the room. "I'll take care of her for a while."

"You know, Lenalee," Allen said as soon as Lavi left, "I know exactly how you feel."

Lenalee sobbed. "I'm sorry for behaving like this, Allen. I know you're also in pain…"

Allen rubbed the small of Lenalee's back. "Lavi will be happier if you send him off—well, not happily, but—you could let him go with a smile on your face, or you could let him go with your angry words ringing in his ears."

lenalee nodded against Allen's shoulder. "I know. I can't forget the way Daisya died either. Or the innocent people dying out there. I'll… I'll let him go. But I don't want to lose him…"

Allen hugged Lenalee, and their tears mingled.

Lavi left the next week, with Lenalee's kiss on his cheek and sweet words whispered into his ear. He waved once, twice, and then the train disappeared into the tunnel, leaving behind only a thick grey trail of smoke.

The summer wind tore Lenalee's love away. Allen watched by her friend's side, lingering silently by the rails, and knew the pain of losing a friend again.

* * *

[1942]

The evening Cross actually came to visit, Allen knew that something drastic was about to happen. Cross never visited the hotel unless it was absolutely necessary, choosing instead to conduct his business elsewhere, in areas of ill-repute. Recently, he had taken up with Anita from the next town, and Allen had not seen him in a rather long while.

It was spring again, and the trees were just beginning to shed the sterility of winter and bloom in shades of green. Cross pushed the door open, stamped his dirty boots on the rug, and looked at Allen.

"Brat," he said by way of greeting.

Allen glared at Cross.

Cross ignored the glare, choosing instead to help himself to a nearby bottle of wine. He grabbed a glass and a dirty rag, and then threw himself carelessly (but with striking grace) into a chair. "They're saying things about you down in the lower villages." Cross wagged his finger at Allen. "You aren't so ignorant that you don't know?"

"What things?" Allen asked, paling visibly, her red scar all the more visible as it stretched taut against her paler-than-usual skin.

"Whore who gave herself to a damned Japanese, that's what." Cross stared at her intensely. "Anita's worried."

"Why should you be worried? Why are they saying that? The Japanese haven't made a move on Europe yet. It should be the Germans we're worried about…"

Cross snorted. "You fool! The Japanese have conquered most of Asia, and destroyed our men fighting in the Straits Settlements. How do you think the villagers here feel about it, especially those of them whose sons went to defend the colonies?"

"They—"

"You are damned right. They are now 'they', and they no longer consider you as part of them. They hate the Germans but that doesn't mean they don't hate the Japanese too. Damned xenophobes. And you being associated with that Kanda… you're a target, girl. They'll burn you alive at the stake, as a modern day heretic, mark my words."

"They wouldn't—"

"Oh yes, they would!"

Allen's stomach lurched, as if she had eaten one too many pies, and the colour of the wine in Cross's glass did not help one bit. It was red, slippery red, the colour of the blood that burst forth from the vessels of men who lay on the battlefield. In her mind one of those men with empty eyes had long dark hair that flew in the wind, a smirk lying crooked against his cold face. And then she thought of herself being paraded through the streets, with villagers and townsfolk hurling burning sticks at her and eggs smashing against her forehead, and _no_ , _she didn't want to be persecuted_.

"Anita and I can't hide you in our house forever, you know, idiot."

"Thank you, Master, but I can look after myself." Allen put on her cheerful smile.

"Fool, if you try to defend yourself you'll end up as a charred mess of bones! The best plan… is for you to marry Link." Cross dangled a cigar between his fingers as he leaned forward. "I've thought long and hard about it so you'd better appreciate—"

"Link! Howard Link!" Allen looked aghast. "I can't, I can't. I don't love him—I don't even know him—"

"Oh yes, I know you love Kanda, but he's gone. You have to accept that fact."

"Don't say that! He isn't dead yet!" Allen yelled.

"He might be. He hasn't written to you ever in what, two years? If he isn't dead then he's probably lost all interest in you. How do you know he'll return? If you don't want to die in the near future, you'd better take up with Link."

"No—"

"You will, for the sake of living. You have to. Do you want Mana to be disappointed in you?" Cross growled. "Did he waste those years taking care of you? Don't go throwing your life away for one silly boy."

"I can't—"

"What did Mana tell you before he died? He told you to keep walking. And if marrying Link is the way to keep walking, then it's what you have to do."

"But Kanda—"

"Kanda," Cross shouted, "is not coming back! And even if he were to come back, you… could always divorce Link, I suppose. The church isn't so strict these days. It's a new world out there."

Allen huddled herself by the hearth when Cross left, drawing her knees to her chest. Inside her raged a storm, and she wept till the morning came.

* * *

The wedding was a solemn one. The wars were still ongoing, each existing like a firework at some different part of the globe, and materials of all sorts were still scarce. They held it in the church standing along the town square, and invited only their close friends. Cross was there to give Allen away, and Leverrier, the mayor, was there, to give his nephew, Link, his blessings.

Allen stood behind a curtain at the back of the little church, waiting for the ceremony to begin. She sighed, and adjusted her veil. Her gown was made of white organza, with a scalloped neckline; it belonged to Anita and didn't really fit in places. The curls on her head felt unreal; she felt like a turkey dressed up to become a peacock, and she shivered inside.

There was little to look forward to from now on; she would become Mrs Link, and that was all. The one thing that Allen drew comfort from was that they would not be staying with Leverrier at his grand house. She didn't like Leverrier.

Link was standing at the podium before the officiating priest. He wasn't that bad a man, really, just a little pompous and stiff. He had been honourably discharged from the army after a stray bullet damaged his left leg; now he walked with a slight limp. He braided his hair, which Allen thought affected, but that didn't really matter now, did it, when her life was at stake?

Cross walked Allen down the aisle, and she walked gracefully, as Lenalee had taught her. She faced Link, and felt that something was wrong. This was not the wedding she'd dreamed of. All along, she had hoped to marry someone she loved, someone who could hold not just her respect but also her feelings, and the man in front of her she could only ever respect. Link would love her but she could never love him back in that same manner, and that very thought turned her cold.

Above her, the well-worked lattices of the old church creaked, and she missed the man (he of the dark hair and the dark eyes, he of the frowns and the never-ending smirks), wilting deep inside.

"I shall join you in holy matrimony," the priest said, and he carried out his office.

Allen turned once, craning her neck. She counted to ten, hoping for a deep voice to rush through the echoing space like roaring water, to forbid the banns. But the church doors remained shut, and no man (with glittering coal eyes and strong arms) came thundering down the aisle.

Therefore, they were wed, and walked out of the church as Mr and Mrs Link.

Spring was meant to be a happy, merry time, but Allen felt a mountain of stones settle into the pit of her stomach, heralding the loss of happiness. She was well and truly trapped now, but she was alive, and surely that meant something?

Only, the world was grey, and Link's palm was clammy against her fingers, and her heart grew silent and heavy, and she felt like a stricken songbird with the bars of a gilded cage closing in around her.

* * *

[1946]

Lavi came back that autumn, stepping off the train lightly. Allen smiled and waved appropriately (a staid matron, hugging her babe to her chest) as Lenalee flew into Lavi's embrace. Komui alternated between grinning and frowning.

As soon as the preliminary greetings were done, Lavi walked over to Allen. He was thinner than before, his cheekbones protruding. He was much changed—he had lost some of that jauntiness he once possessed. His right eye had also been damaged, how she didn't know, because he hadn't spoken of it in the letters he sent back home. _War is terrifying_ , she thought, and stared at the eye patch on his face in twisted wonder.

He walked slowly, as if the weight of the world lay upon his shoulders, and suddenly, Allen knew.

Lavi took Allen's hands into his own. "I'm sorry, Allen."

"You shouldn't be, Lavi. It's not your fault."

"If I hadn't left… maybe I could have helped you. Then you… would not have been forced into—"

"No, Lavi." Allen pressed her eyelids shut for a long moment. "The life I'm leading now isn't the one that I've always dreamed of, but Link's a good man."

Lavi sighed. "Allen, I saw Yu."

Allen turned pale, clutching convulsively at her child. Lenalee reached over to relax Allen's grip on the child and gave Lavi a reproachful glare.

Lavi said, "We were fighting in Malaya. I saw him, recognised him straight off. I think he recognised me too, because he sort of smiled. He was lying in this thicket, bloody and poorly bandaged. I gave him some of the water from my canteen, but I had to leave with my contingent. We were marching north. I'm not sure what became of him afterward, but… you must be prepared. He might never return."

Allen nodded, and turned away to hide the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

* * *

[1958]

Allen cried when Link's coffin was lowered into the ground. Beside her, little Mana grasped her elbows and bowed his own head in grief at the loss of his stern but caring father. The winds were howling around them, and Lenalee reached over to pull the lapels of Allen's coat tighter around her thin body.

"You need to eat more, Allen," Lenalee said.

Allen merely nodded, looking at the red leaves as they spun through the air. _How fitting_ , she thought, _a dance of blood and tears; the trees are weeping for the loss of a good man_.

Turning slowly, she left the graveyard. Link, while never her lover, had been a competent husband. He had provided for her and their child, and had never once been unkind. In his own pompous and reserved manner he had loved them with all his heart, that much she knew. It scared her, somewhat, that the man she had grown used to seeing at the head of the table should have left so suddenly, plunging her into a world she no longer knew.

But she kept the smile on, because there was no reason to worry those who loved her.

Lavi looked at Allen's retreating figure and the stretched smile she had on before, and wished again that Kanda was with them.

* * *

[1965]

It was winter again, and Allen made ready to pay a visit to the ailing Leverrier. She did it out of kindness: the old man had seen too many years, and death was now lounging at his door. No one visited him much; he was always by himself in that dreadful old manor, hidden deep in dust and the memory of lost things.

At the door, she called goodbye to Mana and instructed her housekeeper to mind the house while she was gone. Then she pulled on her black boots and made off into the wintry landscape. Allen made her way carefully around melted, muddled puddles, inching her way out of her yard.

Then she stopped. A few places down, at the Bookmans' house, a man nodded curtly to the gardener, before walking away down the lane. She recognized that man. How could she ever forget that dark hair, that pale face, those sharp features? It was Kanda, of the dark hair and the dark eyes, of the frowns and the never-ending smirks, of the glittering coal eyes and strong arms.

Allen recognised Kanda's profile, and watched mesmerized as he strode down the lane. Without thinking, she began walking, tracing his route, her own heels clicking smartly against the pavement. She walked without focusing on the route; her eyes were glazed over and her heart felt too large for her chest, like a heavy glass bird attempting flight, knowing all the while that it would fail and end up as a thousand splinters lying still against the ground.

She found herself standing The Black Order, one of the most popular coffeehouses in town. She swept through the sliding glass doors and made her way in.

Once inside, she glanced around the neat, cosy interior. There he was, standing before the hearth over which an excellent reproduction of The Human Condition hung, cup in his hand.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Link!" Lou Fa chimed. The girl still referred to Allen by her married name even though Allen had told her time and again to drop the prefixes and just call her Allen.

Kanda's attention was drawn to the door, and his features rearranged themselves into a mask of visible shock. 

With her chin-length bob and cloche hat, and that ridiculously trendy beige coat she was wearing, Allen was noticeably different from her younger self. But Kanda still knew her, and after a second, the cup dropped to the floor where it broke into smithereens. The customers in the coffeehouse turned and looked, bemused by the fact that one of the most respected women in the town and an Asian foreigner were staring at each other as if they could not see the whole world around them.

After what seemed like centuries, Allen walked over to the hearth and faced Kanda. Someone, presumably drunk, clapped; someone jeered. In that time, Lenalee had dashed over, directing a waiter to sweep the floor, and ushered her friends into a back room where Lavi was.

"Yu!" Lavi cried. He pushed his stack of paper aside and rose with his hands stretched out. "So you're still alive, after all!"

Kanda pushed Lavi away. "Don't touch me, idiot."

Lenalee shook Kanda's hands warmly. "I'm so glad to see you back! We've missed you so, so much—"

Kanda nodded at her, before turning to Allen. "I told you I would come back, didn't I?"

Allen was still in shock.

Lavi said, "Why didn't you return right after the war?"

"I did," Kanda said. "But I found out that you were already married to Link. So I left."

"You should have told us," said Lenalee. "We would have—"

"It's all in the past now," Lavi said, smiling widely. "You have another chance, Yu! Better use it!"

Kanda turned his gaze to Allen. Time had not diminished the intensity of his eagle-like eyes.

Allen found herself flushing. "Don't speak nonsense, Lavi. You always do—"

"I know Link's dead." Kanda took a step closer to Allen. "I came back because… I wanted to see you. To see how you all were doing."

Allen averted her eyes and studied her boots. Her heart rattled in her chest, and a warm tingly sensation spread through her limbs. She felt like a young girl again, and did not quite know what to do.

Kanda reached into his pocket and held a necklace out. "This is for you. I kept it."

Allen reached out and took the necklace—no, it was a crucifix. Her crucifix. It hung loosely from her fingers; the beads were worn smooth with age. "I—"

Lenalee nudged Allen forward. Allen stumbled slightly, not having anticipated the movement. Kanda reached out to steady her. His hands were warm and comfortable against her own.

With tears in her eyes, Allen finally let down her walls. She threw her arms around Kanda and revelled in his embrace. He was warm, and her head fit comfortably against the crook of his neck. It was as if he'd never left.

Happiness was hard to find, and they were already in the throes of their middle ages. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could learn to recover those lost years, and regain the passion and zest of their younger days.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on FFN in Jan 2011. This was inspired by The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. 
> 
> I've edited this heavily and rewritten too much of it before posting here because of the plot holes which are so glaring in retrospect but sometimes there is simply no way to save a fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Also, I am unsure if any Japanese people in Britain at the time of WW2 were subject to terrible treatment on the basis of their nationality/country of origin, but the US did in fact incarcerate no small number of Japanese Americans.


End file.
